A Different Kind of Darkness
by Redentor
Summary: Hell was an interesting place. Full of regret, full of pain, full of broken hopes. I can't say I didn't deserve to be sent there...I also can't say it showed me the error of my ways. One thing I can say is...I was surprised when I managed to break out. Now that I have I'm starting to wonder what I should be doing with my new life. Can't say I've decided that yet either. Male OC!SI.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

* * *

Let me just start, by saying that I'm not an evil person by nature. No, I'm really not. Evil, true evil I mean, is very rare. And I'm not it. If I was to describe myself as anything then it would be selfish. And everyone is selfish at one point or another. I'm also heavily convinced of my own god complex. Selfish is only a few steps away from egotistical after all. And that's another thing. I never used to believe in god. Heaven, hell, purgatory, body and blood of Christ, take it somewhere else. To me it was one of life's great conspiracies. The great fallacy concocted to keep people like Joe Bloggs, John Doe, Smith and Jones in line. Everyday people, like you, like me, like a billion other people from one side of the world to the other. I mean nobody is likely to step out of line under the constant threat of eternal torment. Eternal torment is a big deal. It's a big threat. I know a lot of gamblers, including myself, and even we'd be hesitant to play a game with stakes that high.

But when you believe that the game is one big lie in the first place it becomes easier on your conscience to see how far you can push the envelope. And I really enjoyed pushing the envelope. Everyone is good at something, and it just so happens that I was naturally talented at being a criminal. That doesn't mean that I'm going back on what I said earlier. Being a criminal, at least in my opinion is not the same thing as being evil. I mean look at Al Capone. It's hard to believe, and I'm certainly no exception to that. I almost didn't believe it when I learned it in school, but Capone, the big bad Capone! The man behind the Valentine's Day Massacre sent flowers to the widows of everyone he'd killed. And when he accidentally shot a woman, he paid for her medical bills, and the bills for her children.

I think that's what got me into being a criminal. The style. The leather. The machismo. I wasn't anywhere near Capone standards of course. It's hard to top that, and it was a different time and place. I can say though, that I was dedicated, professional and above all I tried to have style. I was polite, I was efficient, and I was dependable. I was however, not efficient enough. Not dependable enough. Not dedicated nearly enough. And that's how I ended up dead.

You probably just rolled your eyes. Call me crazy if you want, call me an attention seeking liar, call me anything you want, but I can remember the day I pitched backwards into that dark hole with a bullet in my brain like it was yesterday. I remember looking at my body down in that hole as the shooter took up the shovel from the back of his sedan and started filling in the impromptu grave with practised movements. I knew him. He was one of mine. One of my contacts. I used to pay him a few grand sterling a month, along with a few of the pastries he liked to supply me with information on the local police. He was the brother of a Detective Inspector.

The first grave he'd ever dug was for one of my victims. I scowled down at the back of his neck. He was a small man. Shorter than my five foot eleven. I reached out and tried to grasp his neck. My hand passed right through like he was made of mist. Or I was. Somewhere inside my chest I felt the beginnings of a scream of rage, but I reigned it in. No point now. I straightened the suit I was wearing, frowning at the familiar feel of the material. It wasn't real. The real suit was down in the hole with my body. I sighed heavily. It was a very nice suit. I couldn't move for shit in it, one of the reasons why it had been so easy to get the drop on me. It was hard to fight back when you couldn't lift your hands above your head without choking yourself with your own lapels.

"How the hell did Capone manage all those years," I muttered, "Last time I wear a bloody suit."

"Somehow, I don't think that's going to be an issue."

I froze. That….was not a normal voice. It sent Goosebumps up by non-existent spine. It ricocheted around my brain in much the same way that the bullet had. And even though a deep part of myself understood what the voice had said, the rest of myself couldn't comprehend it at all. I turned slowly. I don't know what I expected to see. Big red demon with horns? An old man in a black suit like an undertaker? Maybe even the more traditional grim reaper. I wasn't even sure what I was seeing. It was wrong. Just plain wrong in much the same way as some of those Lovecraftian horrors you hear about in Cthulhu mythos. Twisted, dark, tentacles. It stood out from its surroundings like a bad Photoshop. This thing did not belong.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn't look away. My eyes were glued to the nightmare as it floated, walked, and wobbled towards me all at once. "I take it I'm not going to the good place then?"

Don't mistake that as bravado in the face of death. I was terrified, and I knew instinctively that this thing could feel my fear. If I had still been in possession of a bladder I would have pissed myself. Saying something glib and off-the-cuff was just my way of dealing with extreme and all-consuming fear. As it was, my words were barely a whisper.

Then the thing reached out with a tentacle and lifted me into the air. Behind me, I could still hear the Inspectors brother filling in my grave. "Help," I choked out, trying to get his attention. He had the Browning High Power he'd used to put that bullet in my head. If I could gain his attention somehow, maybe he could help! Maybe he could distract the thing so I could get away. Silly thing to hope for, right? This thing was probably just as incapable of being perceived by the living as I was. Grasping at straws I guess. Guess they were made of mist too, because none of them helped.

Suddenly, the ground started to crumble underneath me. It crumbled, fell away slowly to reveal another pit. This one was dark, but not in the same way as the darkness of the pit my body had been dumped in. This was so dark it almost looked solid. I would have believed it was solid as well, if the other things hadn't taken a peak out to welcome the newest resident. More of the Cthulhu lookalikes, and bleached white sunken faces of other damned souls. Tentacles and stick thin arms reaching out to welcome me into their fold. I screamed at the Inspectors brother, asking him, God, my mother, his mother and anyone else I could think of for help. I looked down into the Pit, The Pit, the eternal torment and depths of Hell itself, and into the sunken eyes of the damned. I didn't find malice, or some sort of hellish anger directed at me. I found a desperate plea. They were desperate to escape. And they were looking at me with panic in their dull eyes. Help us!

Then I felt the tentacle holding me release its burden, and I fell, my tie streaming out above me. I fell onto the sea of hands and tentacles. The hands tried desperately to escape, pulling at me to try and gain leverage. The tentacles however, were having none of it. They clamped down on them and me, and pulled down. The darkness closed in around us, and I screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

* * *

I'm not entirely sure how long I was down there. It felt like an eternity. But an eternity is an eternity, its forever. So it couldn't have been. You and I both know that, because if it had been an eternity, I wouldn't be writing this, and you wouldn't be reading.

What was hell like? Well, not what I was expecting. You'd expect fire, brimstone, sulphur? Whips, knives and razor wire? No. The best way I can describe it is a maze. Not a three dimensional one either. It was confusing, impossible and just plain unsettling. And around every corner, terrifying things lurked waiting to drag you away and torture you until you couldn't speak properly. Not that speaking mattered down there. That place twisted everything. The sounds coming out of your mouth were never the ones you intended. None of them made sense. It was a realm of fear, pain and regret. I can't count the number of times I prayed. The number of times I begged for some kind of forgiveness.

I never forgot what being alive was like however. Some of the others did. I didn't know their names, and I suspect that neither did they. They just lost a part of themselves. Down there in the darkness of the Pit where names couldn't be spoken to one another. They ceased to matter. Drifted away along with your sanity. Me? Sometimes I had to think for a bit, but I still remembered in the end. Always kept alive the hope, that there was a hope.

Then….it happened. I was lost in the maze, dodging the things in a futile attempt to have a few minutes of reprieve. Or what I thought were minutes. No concept of time left. I saw…the most glorious thing in the world. It was the gate!

The one I'd come in through. Or one very similar. I did what any former criminal would do. I leapt at it, and started feeling around. I'd cracked safes before. I'd cracked doors and vaults. But there was nothing. No keyhole. No frame. No tumbler. Nothing to signify that it was a door at all. But I just knew that it was. Something about it was so familiar somehow! I began punching it. Hard enough that it would have broken my bones if I wasn't already very aware that nothing that existed in this place was physical in nature. It was all weird, but my body was buried in a hole somewhere in the UK. I couldn't really get hurt here, I just felt the pain. And the pain of slamming my non-fist into a section of non-door was not half as bad as the pain those things could inflict.

I hammered and hammered, hoping that something would give. I could hear the things, attracted by the twisted sounds of my futile escape attempt. Or at least I thought it was futile. That was until I, hope against hope, felt something give. I felt progress. I sped up, and put more power behind my blows. Then it gave way entirely. I fell forwards, through the door.

And suddenly I was surrounded by light. Voices and sensations I hadn't felt for ages upon ages. I saw faces, and doctor's coats. I saw a woman's face, staring down at me in exhaustion and happiness. I could feel cool air on my small body, and the untwisted sound of what seemed like Japanese. And childlike laughter. The woman's eyes had gone wide. What was she looking so surprised about? It was beautiful sure, to hear a child laughing after so long in the Pit. So pure, so innocent. Then I realised. It was me. I was the child laughing. I could feel the twang of my new vocal cords. And I was laughing joyously. It was finally at an end. After so much suffering and pain, I was free. I'm out! Eat that hellspawn! Stephen Aldridge is OUT!


	2. Chapter 1

**Age 3**

* * *

Even though being trapped in the body of an infant was a rather untenable position for a former career criminal of the infamous East End of London, and now turn renegade escape from the Pit, I can honestly say that these past few months have been some of the happiest of my life. Do you have any idea, and I'm not being overly dramatic for the sake of it, any idea how good clean fresh air tastes? How good the warmth of human flesh is after the years I spent rotting in Hell? How good the food, even if it is just mushed up baby food, tastes when you haven't eaten anything for so long? If my parents were shocked when I started laughing fresh out of the womb, they were nonplussed by my seemingly everlasting good cheer.

In all respects I was the perfect child. I seldom cried or made a hassle, but when I did I seemed to them to have an uncanny ability to make my desires clear. Potty training, though embarrassing, was a very short lived and successful affair. I said my first word a few days shy of my first full month. That wasn't to say everything had been a stellar string of successes one after another. Breast feeding for instance. The first time my new mother had pulled out one of those and shoved it into my face I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I managed to get away by biting down and shouting out for dad to save me while my mouth was no longer obstructed. Sufficed to say, my father took one look at the situation and started laughing his arse off. My mother, luckily for me, was too busy beating my father over the head with my baby bottle to notice me beating a hasty retreat via first class knees.

I learned enough to talk semi-intelligibly by my third month. By then however, I was through lazing around in my cot. I'd been satisfied so far by just enjoying life as it was, carefree without the constant threat of unknowable menaces slipping out of shadows to savage me. As far as I was concerned, it was time to start being myself again.

No offense to my new "parents", but once you've had a taste of independence and success, it's hard to just sit down and live a child's life. I was hankering for something interesting to occupy my time. By the time I built up enough strength in my legs to walk on my own, the easy ride my surrogate family had been enjoying came to an abrupt and tragic end. I broke out of play pens, mountaineered out of my cot and started toying with sharp objects. I swear, the bags around their eyes grew out overnight and stayed there for months. I didn't stop of course. The sooner they got used to the fact that I was perfectly capable of looking after myself the better it would be for all of us.

Despite all the hubbub however, I'll admit my new family are very decent people. The Nara clan of a rather odd place called Konohagakure. I can safely assume that wherever I got dropped off, it most certainly not on Earth anymore. I'm not even sure I'm in the right dimension. I've seen some pretty blatant violations of the laws of physics in my short few years here. I managed to sneak down to a clan training field during one of my great escapes. I'm not someone who is easily shaken, but what I saw some of those clan members doing with their shadows brought back very unpleasant memories of my time in the Pit. A Chūnin had to guide me back to my house while I hyperventilated my little body into unconsciousness.

Once I got over the shock, I knew what I wanted to spend my time working towards. I watched the Nara shinobi every day, taking in the different techniques: the taijutsu, the ninjutsu and the occasional genjutsu.

What I saw left me deeply impressed. One man with these sorts of abilities could have taken over the East End in a week. I want them. I want them. I want them.

And that's how I found myself in front of my father, Shikako Nara, asking him if I could train to be a shinobi. Now, the man is apparently one of the most dangerous shinobi in the village. The current Nara clan head, and Jōnin Commander. Kind of a big deal. And this hardened killer cooed at me and ruffled my three year old head. He really had to stop doing that, I scowled slightly, but made no protest. He was a stand-up guy. A good parent. Unfortunately his odd talent with children was somewhat lost on me. I didn't need a traditional upbringing. I just needed a guardian until I was old enough to do things by myself.

"Why do you want to be a ninja all of a sudden, Reiji-chan? You're a bit young to be learning things like that."

I was a bit young when I broke out of my cot and stole all your kunai dad, I said internally. What I did outwardly was hunch up and press my forehead to the ground. "Please, Otousan."

I wasn't about to play the child and cutesy my way into his good graces for this, and I wasn't about to throw a tantrum. Too much pride for that. Shikako however was the best kind of parent. All his interactions with me were aimed in some way to enforce certain principles in my head. Respect, dedication, loyalty. Like I said before, even though his efforts to ensure I grew up as a respectable guy were kind of redundant, I still had to respect his trying. But, and this is a big but, dangle a hint that you were doing something in order to conform to an ideal of loyalty or respect under his nose, and he would fold like a sheet of paper.

He'd let you do anything you wanted if he thought you were doing it for a good reason. So intent was he at finding those little hints that his son was growing up to be a good little kid, he'd completely overlook the underlying reason. The reason I wanted the training was because I liked the idea of wielding that kind of power. Hey now, don't give me that look!

I realize that sounded ominous, but trust me, it isn't like that. Well…maybe it is, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Who wouldn't want to do half of the things that these ninja can do? It's as natural for me to pursue stuff like this as it is for me to eat when I'm hungry. Or breathe when my body needs oxygen.

Stop rolling your eyes!

Let's move past that shall we, or are you done sniggering yet?

Good.

I felt dads hand on my shoulder, and he was smiling at me affectionately. "Being a shinobi is not something to take upon yourself lightly, Reiji-chan. There is more to it than just flashy jutsu and a shiny headband. Being a shinobi is about sacrifice. It is about honor and loyalty. It is promise made to your village, to protect and also to destroy if needs be. You have shown me much character at such a young age Reiji-chan, so I will respect your final decision. Are you sure this is the path you want to tread?"

You might think that this is a bit of a heavy conversation for a three year old. You'd be right. But my dad is no fool. He's a Nara for cry sake, and despite his tendency to view my actions through rose tinted glasses, he picked up long ago on the fact that I'm bloody smart for my age. He doesn't suspect that I'm actually a thirty six year old masquerading as a three year old though. He just thinks I'm some sort of prodigy. Like I said, rose tinted glasses.

But, real reason for me wanting the training aside, and all the awkward lies, I don't think I'll just take the training and run when I'm old enough. I like the people around here. I like the food and the landscape. I like the weather. Hell, I even enjoy the smell of the air. Being a ninja in service to the village might sound a bit constraining, but hell, there are perks to the job. Not to mention, most of the traits required by ninja fall quite neatly in line with the skills of my former profession. And I'd get to do it legally. In fact, I'd be encouraged and paid to do it. And I can't forget the allure of being taught how to beat up people with just my shadow.

I look up, and make my expression as resolute as possible. "Yes Otousan, thank you."

* * *

**Age 5**

* * *

The next few years were productive. I'd always prided myself for being efficient and dedicated. Well my capacity for both was put to the test. I learned about chakra, about the history of the Nara clan and the village as a whole. About the history of the profession of shinobi as far back as the First Great War. I read books, I took notes, and my hand developed blisters as extensively as the ground developed grass.

The whole situation reminded me of secondary school education, only with a decidedly more serious goal in mind. It was challenging, but not overly so. After all, I'd been old enough to actually work for a living in my past life. And I'd been…self-employed in a manner of speaking. One of the biggest lies when people harp on about the benefits of being self-employed, is that your time is your own. You make your own hours, and you take time off whenever you feel like it.

Well, technically, you can.

I guess.

It never really worked out that way for me when I was building my own *cough* business. I usually found that if you had any free time at all, it was usually a sign that you had done something extremely right, or very wrong. The latter was the most common. Building your own business sucked up time like a vampire, and was twice as aggravating. Yeah, just let that sink in for a moment. Twice as aggravating as having your blood sucked out by the undead. No, I'm not exaggerating.

Learning history and chakra theory might have been difficult for some, but it was laughably easy for someone who had paperwork shoved under his nose from nine to five every day for almost ten years. The real issue was the amateur taijutsu lessons my father assigned me. And who he assigned me to. My big brother, Shikaku Nara. Fifteen years old, a Genin, and lazy to the point of shear ridiculousness.

Due to the fact that he had work to do for his missions and a rather impressive timetable of nap times that he felt it his personal duty to adhere to, his interest and patience with his job of teach me taijutsu was rather lacking. Now I'm no slouch when it comes to a bit of a brawl. I'd learnt boxing from the ravenous street monsters of London's East End. The same streets where legends like the Kray twins and Lenny McLean had learned their craft. Taijutsu however was an entirely different kettle of fish. It was refined. It was accurate. It was lethal. Even the academy standard was a carefully formulated style of fighting developed for hard and sustained combat.

The bareknuckle boxing I was familiar with was made for confrontations of the hard and fast verity that might not actually end up in serious injury or death at all. A bit of a knock around so to speak. Don't get me wrong. It could be lethal. Taking multiple blows to the head is definitely enough to kill you given the right circumstances, but Taijutsu was **geared** towards defending yourself against injury and death, and inflicting it upon your opponent. It was elegant, it was useful and something I wanted to perfect. Not that I needed to be perfect. The academy had lower standards than myself. But if Stephen Aldridge…sorry, Nara Reiji was going to do anything, he was going to do it properly.

Unfortunately that meant motivating Shikaku to teach me. I paused in the middle of one of my katas to look at the soundly sleeping form of my brother…

This might be difficult.

* * *

I worried my parents sometimes. Obviously.

I worked hard, maybe even too hard for a child of my age. I spent hours performing katas and reading through each one of the many volumes that were supplied to me for my training. They weren't expecting me to have progressed at such a rate. In another life, maybe one where they were the ones to force me into learning this stuff, and I wasn't so damn dismissive of the bruises and the cuts that piled up on my skin from all the physical training, they might have let pride in my success be the deciding factor in their decision making process.

Not here though. Mikazuki, my mother, had a furious row with my father regarding his decision to let me train as a shinobi. It was rather one sided. Shikako agreed with her at almost every turn and promised to make me start doing some normal, kid's things. The only reason they argued at all, at least in my opinion, was so Mikazuki could vent some frustrations. I could tell she was proud as well, and didn't want to tell me to stop herself in case she somehow ruined my motivation. Still, every time she saw my blisters or one of my new bruises, I noticed an agonized look swim across her face. My sympathies went out to Shikako. My ex-wife had been a worry wart as well. One of the reasons we were divorced before my death.

It wasn't such a big deal to me though. As far as I was concerned, just with all the times I broke out of my cot or my play pen, they would get over it and realize that I didn't need the concern. That was until dad made good on his promise to mom. Then it became a big deal.

"Dad, I've finished my book."

I trotted up to my father in the training fields as he kept a watchful eye on the Chūnin. His boots crunched on the gravel path that circled the field as he turned towards me. He was wearing his pants, boots and forehead protector sporting the symbol of the leaf, but he had everything else off for the sparing matches. He was a hands on Commander, preferring to take a more active hand in the training of new recruits than some of the others. And he never let it take away from his other duties either. I wondered, idly, where Shikaku had gotten his chronic laziness. It certainly wasn't from his father. I hadn't seen my dad take so much as a coffee break since the first moment I'd met him.

I looked up at him past the large expanse of muscle and a rippling six-pack. He had some scar tissue over his left kidney, and between his fourth and fifth rib. Someone, or multiple someone's had tried to kill him, and if my grasp of anatomy was up to snuff, had come bloody close to succeeding.

He smiled at me and as was custom between the two of us, ruffled my hair. It was greasy, and I half wondered whether I should take a wash. The water was usually hot this time of day. I tossed the idea aside however when I realized that I'd only get myself dirty again when I went through my katas later this afternoon. I should have had one yesterday. My fault for taking a few extra hours to organize my notes and finish the book I was now trying to get Shikako to take from me so I could get another to work on. He took the book all right, and looked at it thoughtfully. Something was on his mind, something out of the usual. "Reiji-chan, when was the last time you did something that wasn't studying or a taijutsu class?"

Instantly my mind whirled back to the argument I'd overheard between Shikako and Mikazuki. Danger captain, danger off the starboard bow! All hands to the guns.

"Is this about the argument that you and kachan had?"

Shikako grinned and hunkered down so he could address me eye to eye. "Eavesdropping on me and your Okasan isn't a nice thing to be doing, Reiji-chan."

I smiled back, "I couldn't help it. Kachan was being very loud."

Shikako laughed at that, drawing the gaze of one of the Chūnin, who grinned at the sight of the little kid and his father at the side of the field. Apparently, I'm very cute as a kid. Who knew?

"I really don't mind studying. It's actually really relaxing."

That was actually a blatant lie. I was kind of indifferent to the studying in terms of how much I liked doing it. What drove me to keep doing it was the size of the payoff at the end of it all. Shikako didn't have to know that though. But he was a Nara. He was smart, and he had common sense on his side. Dad shook his head.

"You won't fool me that easily Reiji-chan, I've seen a lot of determination in your face when you study. But I've never seen any enjoyment. How long has it been since you had fun?"

I was tempted to say that having fun was pointless, when stacked up against what I could gain from learning chakra control and taijutsu. That, on the other hand wouldn't sway Shikako none. He'd think that long hours of studying had warped my brain or something, and demand that I do something completely and utterly pointless. Like play with toys, or work on a coloring book. Sometimes I cursed the fact that most kids had to be dragged away from their playtime with a crowbar and a winch and chain. I never thought I'd have to make excuses to get in some productive work.

"A while," I admitted, "But I'm not having a bad time."

"I didn't think you were, Reiji-chan. You study hard, you train hard and you never complain. But you are five years old and you still haven't made any friends your own age. I agree with your mother when she says it's worrying. Now before I give you your next book, I want you to do something for me."

"What?" I asked cautiously.

"You are very mature for your age Reiji-chan, and I'm proud that my son is so dedicated and dependable. So believe me when I say that this is not a punishment for anything."

I rolled my eyes inwardly. Get to the point Otousan, tell me what it is that I have to do to get my bloody book before I die again, this time of old age.

"There are guests coming around for a clan meeting tomorrow. They will be bringing their kids with them, and I need someone to watch them. Normally I would ask your brother to do it…."

I snorted. Fat lot of good that would do. Shikaku would probably fall asleep only to wake up after the kids had trashed half the house. Shikako gave me a scolding look, and I attempted to look contrite. He didn't buy it for a moment.

"But I think it would be more beneficial for you to do it. Don't give me that Reiji-chan," he said sternly as I sighed, "I think a chance to interact with kids your own age will be good for you. And it will do me good to have your mother off my back."

I nodded meekly. A chance to interact with a bunch of noisy, smelly, irritating children that I couldn't get out of for at least an entire day. Ohh joy. If I was still back in London I would have punched someone for suggesting that I do something like this. "Okay, I will do it."

Shikako ruffled my hair again. "Cheer up Reiji-chan. It isn't the end of the world."

I grunted, looking down at the ground with my father's big hand still resting on my head. I suppose it was manageable. It would get Mikazuki off dads back and mine, I'd get my next book, maybe even afford me an opportunity to ask some people outside of the Nara some questions regarding their clans unique techniques.

"You know," Shikako said casually, "Most of the kids coming to the clan meeting are going to be training as ninja as well. I believe Kakashi Hatake is even further along than yourself."

I looked up at him curiously, wondering what he could be driving at.

"I hear that you've come to a standstill with your taijutsu lately. Maybe we can find a sparring partner closer to your own age."

He winked at me conspiratorially, "And a bit more willing than Shikaku."

You know what? While I might not actually need a father...

I certainly enjoy having one like Shikako.

* * *

_**Authors Note**: So, this is the first real chapter after the introduction. I just wanted to ask everyone if they've enjoyed it so far, make a few points clear, and maybe ask what they'd like to see from the story as we continue onwards. A few things I've already decided on, but for the rest I'd like your input._

_One thing I'm adamant upon is a firm friendship between Stephen/Reiji and Kakashi. I've always liked his character, and while I'm not going to make his life much better by giving him a solitary friend during his younger years, it would give me warm fuzzy feelings if he has someone to talk with after his father is gone._

_The second is Stephen's knowledge of Naruto. Yes, you are correct. His knowledge of Naruto is precisely zilch. Nada. Non-existent. I was originally going to make him a bit younger, and maybe a bit less experienced. Give him an excuse for reading manga. Then I thought, why not try something new? Don't worry. I still have a way of getting him some foreknowledge so we can have our traditional fight against the timeline, fate, and others. But I'm putting a twist on it. _

_I saw that eye roll!_

_I know everyone says that and then comes up with a twist that's about as original as breakfast cereal, but really, I'll try and make this a unique experience for you. If its not, I'll make it up to you._

_And the third. I know you all want to know what sort of changes Stephen is going to make. He is a criminal after all, and a rather experienced one at that. Old habits die hard, and to top it off he has a bit of an unapologetic love for power. Well, he isn't going to be a "good guy". Then again, just like he said himself, he doesn't buy into the idea of good and evil that much. What I will say, is that his desire for power might seem rather tame at the moment, but in the future it will definitely be getting him into a spot of bother._

_Until next time, I eagerly await your opinions and suggestions. _


	3. Chapter 2

**Age 5**

**The next day**

* * *

The social mechanics of this world never cease to confuse me. What I mean by that is, I know that most parents in Konohagakure like most parents everywhere love their children. In fact, perhaps more than most of the families that I had seen living in the East End. There seemed to be very close family bonds, and equally close bonds between clans and individual people. The relationship between the Yamanaka, Nara and Akimichi clans being a prime example. They loved one another like family, despite not actually being family at all. Well I say that, but I doubt that clans that close could make it even a few generations without having some interrelations of a romantic nature between the two. In fact I know of several Nara who are romantically involved with either Akimichi or Yamanaka clan members.

But I'm straying from the point. What I couldn't understand, was why, with all the goodwill, love, understanding and general gaiety within Konoha, how did it come down to a five year old child, me, getting the stuffing knocked out of him by one of his peers. And in the middle of my own clan compound. Admittedly, kids were rather predisposed to mindless violence, at least as far as I was aware. But still, I still wonder how I got into this fight in the first place.

The clan meeting yesterday was attended by many of the Konoha clan leaders and their entourages of branch family heads. The Uchiha, Hyūga, Aburame, Inuzuka, Akimichi, Yamanaka and of course the Nara clan would all be in attendance. More importantly for myself, there would be two Hyūga, one Aburame, one Inuzuka and one Yamanaka youngsters that I would be responsible for during the duration of the meeting. And, least I forget, Hatake Sakumo and his son as well. Apparently the young Hatake had inherited his father's genius. I was of a mind to put that genius to the test.

That, however, was before I realized how difficult keeping shinobi children in line actually is.

"Put down the vase, Hyūga-san."

The Hyūga in question was the problem child of the group. The same age as me, entitled, and in need of a good beating to put him in his place. But I was reluctant to lay a hand upon him. As a member of the Nara clan, I was responsible for the wellbeing of these children as guests of my father, the clan head. Allowing harm to come to then while in my care, especially at my own hand would be the height of dishonour. Only the crimes you can get away with Stephen, remember your self-control.

"Why should I? What are you going to do if I don't?"

"I will have to inform my father, who will inform your clan head, who will take up the issue with your parents, Hyūga-san."

The boy sneered, his odd whitish eyes making him look like a zombie out of a B-list horror film. "Baka, what does my father care what a little kid like you says?"

I sighed internally. What a surprise, the child doesn't understand social dynamics. He probably wasn't taking me seriously because he believed me to be just as dumb as he was, due to our shared age. Thanking fate silently for being born into the Nara clan, a coincidence that did well to mask my high intelligence for a five year old, I gave the Hyūga my best piercing stare. It wasn't as good as it used to be in the old days, mostly because it was coming from the pudgy and childish face of a five year old, but it made me feel better to flash one anyway.

"I will tell my father, and considering he was the one who gave me this duty to perform in the first place, he will take my word. He will then proceed to tell your clan head, who will respect his word as that of the leader of the Nara clan. Your clan head will then tell your father, and as the head of the main house he has dominion over the branch family members."

The little Hyūga frowned, trying to follow my logic. He didn't seem to grasp the concept that you could tell someone something without actually being acquainted with them at all. The second Hyūga however was looking slightly worried. Maybe that was just the fact that the kid was kind of skittish, but still. They were both Branch family members, and as I was informed by numerous books they were deeply in servitude to the main family of the Hyūga clan. His father would beat the tar out of him if the news of his actions followed the path I had just explained to him.

I had half a mind to tell my father what had happened even if the little Hyūga replaced the ornate vase he had picked up off the table in the spare room. I just wished I could be there to see him get punished. Waiting patiently for him to bow to my request (read: blackmail), I glanced around to see what the reaction to all this was with the other kids. The Yamanaka, a blonde girl with a distinctive ponytail braided with black ribbons met my eyes uncertainly, but gave me a nod of fellowship. The bond between our clans showing through. I didn't even know her name and she was taking my side.

The Aburame, whose name I gathered to be Eiji was staying as far away from the confrontation as possible. When I met his eyes (Read: goggles), he looked at me disapprovingly. Whether he didn't like the fact I was arguing with the Hyūga, or maybe he was just annoyed that I had to do so while he was likely to get caught in the line of fire in some way I didn't know. If I had been a slightly kinder person, I might have felt inclined to be apologetic. After all, if this came to a formal disagreement, which given this particular Hyūga's volatile temperament was likely, then everyone in this room, even Eiji would be asked for his account of the situation. If so, I knew I had a sizable portion of the children here on my side. Kakashi was intelligent and principled for his age. I could tell at a glance that the Hyūga was trying his nerves as well as mine.

Aburame Eiji might go either way, probably depending upon what his father wanted him to do. I couldn't count on his dad not just taking a good chance to kiss up to the Hyūga. Then again, bailing some branch family member out of a bad situation wasn't really a good enough reason to tell his son to lie about what happened.

The Inuzuka kid was slightly more difficult to get a handle on. She seemed ready to take a piece out of the Hyūga's posterior herself, but that in of itself was odd. It was unusual for someone to look that disgusted and angry for just a simple display of bullying. A pre-existing dispute maybe? If there was a long standing dispute between the two kids, and it was known to both that parties parents, it might actually hurt my position to have her side with me. On the other hand, I thought, maybe I could capitalize on it. I considered the possibility.

Malicious plots filled my mind. Maybe I could influence the Inuzuka girl into beating the snot out of the Hyūga, break them apart before things got out of hand, then turn them both over to their parents? Best case scenario they would be taken home and both reprimanded, then I wouldn't have to deal with them. Before I decided upon a course of action however, the Hyūga beat me to the punch. Quite literally. He dropped the vase on the floor, where it landed with a resounding *thunk*, before smashing his tiny fist into the side of my jaw. I stumbled backwards completely unprepared for the unexpected escalation of hostilities and reeling from the quite solid blow he'd managed to connect.

Before he hammered another fist head on into my nose, I made a vague attempt to step out of the way. My instincts were running on auto-pilot. I felt the bone shatter as the punch sent me tumbling backwards to trip over the table he'd taken the vase from. My head was the first thing to hit the floor, the very hard wooden floor constructed in an effort to accommodate chakra enhanced feet. It was as sturdy as reinforced concrete. I lay there, my brain swimming from just having been slammed around the confines of my skull and my legs hooked over the table, which was itself resting on its side. I felt the table cloth bunched up underneath my back along with a few more priceless clan knickknacks.

I groaned. Not from the pain. Anyone who's been in the Pit for any length of time knows a thing or two about pain. That little fist of the Hyūga's didn't register on my scale on the best days. No, I groaned because now I had to deal with this situation. On cue, two Nara Chūnin burst into the room, alerted by the loud crash of myself tripping over the table. I'd stepped to the side on purpose to make as loud a sound as possible without actually making it look like I intended to do so. To the rest of the kids in the room, it appeared as if the Hyūga had just knocked an unawares opponent over a table. The Chūnin show up and see myself draped over a table with a broken nose and the Hyūga standing unharmed above me. The rest of the kids would tell them that the Hyūga started the fight and that I hadn't thrown a single punch.

Not a bad position for me to be in, but hardly ideal. Why, ohh why couldn't you have just dropped the bloody vase you irresponsible, mindless child?

I felt one of the Chūnin check my neck for a pulse. Not that he expected me to be dead…I hope. It didn't really look that bad, did it? I opened my eyes, and brought a hand up to my face. Blood. Blood everywhere. Ohh dear lord that Hyūga kid really did a number on my nose. No wonder the Chūnin decided to check me. "I would be much obliged," I said thickly through the blood and the clicking of my abused jaw, "If you would fetch my father and the Hyūga currently attending the meeting."

"And a medic Nin as well I should think, Reiji-kun."

I looked at the familiar face, and nodded. It was the same shinobi who'd guided me back to the house when I'd first seen jutsu being used. Nara Tadaaki. A favorite of my father, and quite fond of me as well. Protective would be the best word. He'd helped me several times with my taijutsu lessons when Shikaku was away on missions.

I responded with a grave expression to give the strong impression that I disapproved of how events had aligned themselves, and that the position of the aggressor lay firmly with the Hyūga kid. Said kid wasn't helping his position in any way, as he scowled and spoke arrogantly with the second Chūnin. Ohh to be young again. The little shit still thought he was invincible. He'd learn once I was through with him.

"Indeed. Please inform them that there has been," I paused to spit out a mixture of blood and saliva, "An unfortunate breakdown in communications, Tadaaki-sama."

Sitting backwards, I positioned my head so I was looking at the ceiling. It would make it more difficult for blood to continue to flow if it was pumping against the flow of gravity. On the outside I appeared calm, but on the inside I was seething. I'd just had my nose broken by a five year old. And everyone knew it. While I took small consolation from the fact that I would come out the better from this engagement, what the little Hyūga child had done was far beyond what his infantile mind could comprehend. He'd just started a feud, between him and me.

I couldn't take revenge directly of course. Any overt strikes made against the kid would draw the ire of the Hyūga clan as a whole. And covert strike were out at least for the immediate future as well. After something like this, the suspicion would immediately fall upon the Nara. Not necessarily upon myself, as I was just a child, but there would be an investigation with all immediate Nara clan members as prime suspects.

That didn't matter though. I was Stephen Aldridge, the man who broke out of Hell, the man who practically ran London's criminal underworld for seven years, the man who people spoke about in fearfully hushed voices in darkened rooms. The man who inspired fear without anyone even knowing his name. I was just a number and email address on a simple rectangle of white card, and I was all the more terrifying because of it. I was going to rip that kid's eyes out of his skull and fill the sockets full of salt. Before I cut open his gut and choked him with his own entrails. Taking a deep breath, I cemented that image into place in my head.

I enjoyed the knowledge that the Hyūga had no idea what kind of sleeping monster he'd just antagonized. Doubtless he wouldn't know for a while either. I'd take my time. After all, I was only five years old. Time was a commodity I still had plenty of.

* * *

In the interests of propriety, the clan heads decided to adjourn the meeting slightly earlier than they intended. During the time it took them to get everything urgent seen to, the rest of the kids and myself were taken with the permission of their guardians or parents and asked to recount the events that led up to the incident. A bit more formal than what I was used to from my previous life, but I suppose the Clans, especially ones as long standing and influential as the Hyūga had certain standards that they felt necessary to uphold.

"You fell over the table on purpose," A voice said. A shape moved in the corner of my eyes and sat next to me. I glanced around the room we were in cautiously. It was Kakashi who had spoken, sitting there with a contemplative look in his eyes, and a mask covering his face. Why a five year old felt it necessary to wear a mask I had no idea. A personal proclivity? Something he'd picked up from his father?

The Hyūga kid wasn't in the room to hear what he had just said. The other Hyūga was though. And he was staring at me and Kakashi. Everyone in the room had just heard his declaration. Blinking, I raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason why you just pointed that out, or do you just get a kick out of showing off how smart you are?"

"Hey," the Inuzuka girl defended him, "Don't talk to Kakashi-sama like that. He's not the one who has to explain himself here."

I turned my attention to her with narrowed eyes. Standard Inuzuka. Straight brown hair that were curiously spiked at the ends, through chance or design I didn't care to find out. The red markings on both cheeks. Dark brown eyes. Was she really that simple in the head? I was the one who'd just had his face beaten in and she thought I had to explain myself? For what?

"And I do?"

Kakashi was just watching us now, sizing me up and watching my reactions. So they were tag teaming me then? Silent cop, idealistic cop? I was more amused than annoyed. Well, I would have been amused if they hadn't just announced to the whole room that I had actually set the Hyūga up for a fall.

"Yes, you do. You set Naoki up to look like the bad guy. I don't know how, but you did," the Inuzuka sharply. I raised an eyebrow, something that looked quite ridiculous on the chubby face of a five year old. I couldn't help it however, this was just so stupid. First she wants to tear the Hyūga a new one, now she changes sides to support him when I came out on top. Someone needed to get this girl a sense of consistency, pronto.

"He set himself up to look like a bad guy. All I did was make sure that there was no doubt."

"You tricked him into it somehow!"

I blinked. Wait, was she actually suggesting that I…

"So what am I supposed to have done here? Somehow tricked him into picking up that vase, picking a fight with me when I politely asked him to stop, then into trying to shout down a Chūnin to top it all off?"

She glared at me, making the answer to my question evident. Kakashi was still watching me.

"You must have," she said, "How did you know to fall over the table if you didn't plan it in advance, huh?"

I gave her a look of such milk-curdling exasperation and derision that her fist visually clenched. "Because I have a brain, and I can think on my feet. He," I gestured towards Kakashi, "probably would have come to the same conclusion I did."

She looked practically insulted on her friend's behalf, "Kakashi-sama would never have to resort to such cheap tricks."

"I got my nose turned into a piece of pummelled meat. Is that your idea of cheap? I'd love to see your version of expensive," I shot back sarcastically. This girl was either completely devoid of all logic and reason, or she had a serious crush on the Hyūga. The other kids were still listening, and oddly enough not talking or trying to offer their opinions. I wouldn't blame them, I wouldn't want to get involved either.

I turned towards Kakashi and crossed my arms, "So how about it Hatake-san? I keep hearing about how smart you are. Why did I set that kid up for a fall instead of just beating his face in? You figured it out, I know you did."

Kakashi met my gaze from behind his mask, silver hair covering his left eye from view. His other eye seemed twice as sharp to make up for it though. Flickering across my face to make out details lost on most children his age. Genius indeed.

"You couldn't attack him yourself, because it would have disgraced your father and yourself. You couldn't call for the Chūnin yourself, because the other kids might have been more tempted to side with the Hyūga."

I nodded and smiled, "No-one likes a tattle-tale, Hatake-san."

Kakashi nodded in acceptance of my statement, then continued. "You wanted to be in a position where no-one could side with Naoki without playing favoritism. So you stood and took the punches so no-one would question that you were the victim."

He nodded sagely, and even with a hint of approval. "Why get caught digging an enemy's grave, when you can trick him into digging it himself."

"Enemy is a strong word," I said cautiously, "I didn't have anything against Naoki-san. I just wanted him to put the vase back."

The Inuzuka looked contrite now, realizing that she might have been too hasty in deciding that I was up to something, but Kakashi still had a calculating look in his eyes. "You didn't have anything against him. What about now?"

Sharp little blighter isn't he? He noticed that I said it in the past tense.

"Kids are kids, we all make stupid decisions. There is no reason to hold it against them."

But I still will, I thought silently. The Inuzuka girl smiled suddenly, with a slight hint of nervousness in her voice. "Well, I'm sorry then. I thought you were some mean person. I didn't think you might be a smart person like Kakashi-sama."

She laughed, and added in an afterthought, "Though I don't think you're as smart as Kakashi-sama though."

Well, gee whiz kid, thanks very much. That had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I glanced into Kakashi's eyes though, and the spark of intelligence I saw there gave me pause. She might be right though. From what I remember of myself at that age, I wasn't that sharp or articulate. Hatake Kakashi might very well be smarter than me. Then again, thirty years of experience was one hell of a leveller on the playing field.

"I'm Inuzuka Suzume," the now friendly girl introduced cheerfully, leaving me wondering if she had some sort of hormone imbalance, "and this is Hatake Kakashi!"

"Nara Reiji," I responded weakly, "And next time, when you feel like talking about how I might be some sort of a scheming villain, can you not do it in front of everyone else?"

I gestured at the rest of the kids in the room. The Yamanaka girl looked out of her depth, Aburame Eiji looked unimpressed, though it was hard to tell past the goggles. The other Hyūga was askance however, "But you WERE scheming against Naoki-san!"

"I was wasn't I?" I responded evenly, "What are you going to do about it?"

The Hyūga clenched his fist, then realized exactly what a bad idea it would be to start throwing punches like Naoki had. We all knew how that turned out. He looked at the other kids in the room for support. "You all heard him say it! He set up Naoki-san!"

A scowl grew on my face. He clearly hadn't calculated the number of people likely to side with him in this situation. Otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered wasting his breath. "Set up Naoki-san? I don't remember us talking about anything like that."

Kakashi shook his head rather than speaking, while Suzume's expression became guarded. She looked from my scowling face, to the Hyūga and back again. Kakashi drew her attention with a small gesture, and winked. An honest person at heart then. She needed Kakashi to tell her when it was justifiable to lie. She probably idolized his intelligence. "What about you, Yamanaka-san? Do you remember hearing us talk about anything like that?"

The Hyūga watched, aghast, as a home-grown conspiracy against he and his friend was constructed around him. The Yamanaka girl nervously shook her head, and I shot her a warm smile. Then I turned to Eiji.

"Aburame-san?"

He already knew which way the wind was blowing, and he clearly didn't think it was worth swimming against the current. "Nahh Nara-san, I didn't hear anything like that," he said nonchalantly.

The Hyūga stuttered half-formed words of disbelief and resentment, then, realizing that metaphorically speaking he was alone in the room, sat down and tried to shrink into the background. I watched him for a second, making sure he was staying seated. Then I smiled at everyone, reinforcing the sense of fellowship that had just developed. Making sure that they knew I appreciated it, and maybe dispelling some concerns about having essentially just bullied the kid into submission.

I didn't have any qualms however. They were bullies, that kid and Naoki. Bullies who'd picked a fight with a better bully, and had just fallen into the harsh grasp of social Darwinism.

The rest of the day before they all left, was spent with the kids huddled excitedly around Kakashi and I while we discussed Taijutsu, and the possibility of us all training together if our parents allowed.

The two Hyūga, once Naoki got back, sat at the other side of the room. Excluded and furious.

* * *

**Authors Note:** _I realise some people have probably been waiting for me to get this written sharpish, but I'm notorious for leaving things until later. The exact opposite of Stephen really. He's a very efficient kind of guy. And that's an important aspect of Stephen that I try to get across. He's got a lot of good and bad points to him. All of which define him as a person. He is a predominantly selfish person, but in no way does that stop him from doing good things. Like giving bullies a taste of their own medicine. _

_I want to thank the three people who have already reviewed, silly60, Risuna23 and war sage. I always appreciate_ _reviews and I will reply to questions with answers if I can without giving away too much of the story. Now you've probably noticed all the OC's turning up in this chapter. Most of them all have a large role to play as things go on. I don't know of any people apart from Maito Gai, Rin and Uchiha Obito that were born at roughly the same time as Kakashi. So I needed to fill the void with original ninja to make up what is essentially Stephen's generation._

_Yes, Stephen does intend to kill Naoki at some point. He might decide that its not worth the hassle, but his declaration in this chapter is his way of sending a "kill if the opportunity presents itself" memo to himself. Then again, he might just decide to catch him unawares at some point and break his kneecaps. Retribution is retribution after all. _

_Now, as for what will be happening during the run-up to the events of the original material itself? Well, the usual I suppose. Third Shinobi War, which Stephen will participate in. The Kyuubi attack, which Stephen will probably spend as far away from the action as possible. (For those of you thinking Stephen will be OP as hell compared to normal ninja, he will be eventually. I fully intend him to be on par with Kakashi. But strong enough to take on the eternally fluffy Karuma? Just nope.)_

_The Uchiha Massacre as well. Then I think I'll timeskip to the beginning of the series. _

_Next chapter will be more friendly stuff between Kakashi, Stephen *Cough* Reiji and the other kids. And a surprising revelation! What will it be? _

_Until next time, rate and review!_


	4. Chapter 3

**Still Age 5**

* * *

Do you know that feeling, after you've been talking with friends for a while and you just feel better in some small way? More energised, like you've just been plugged into a wall socket and charged up. Well then, you are what is known as an extrovert. Extraverts are people who enjoy social interaction as a kind of general necessity. Like eating, or drinking. If they don't get to participate in social situations with other people then they become agitated or depressed.

Myself, I'm more of an introvert. I had a few friends in my previous life. Well, more like acquaintances that I interacted with out of some form or feeling of obligation. It's not that I don't like people, in fact I love some of the more interesting ones. But talking just tires me out. Even with the people closer to me I feel a need to distance myself and recharge in some much needed solitude. One of the reasons why I cope so well with training and learning day in and day out. I'd rather stay away from everyone and recharge my batteries with a book and a training dummy than have to see my energy get swallowed up by some loud, brash extrovert who just wants their morning buzz.

The only problem with this method of living is that extroverts are everywhere, and because of their proclivities they have little sense of personal space or boundaries. And guess what? After the debacle with Hyūga Naoki at the last clan meeting I seem to have a new extrovert in my life.

"Ohayō, Reiji-san!"

The voice rang out loudly in the training yard, and several Nara Chūnin paused in the middle of their morning katas to watch me, in the middle of a particularly difficult and strenuous kata, topple over backwards in surprise. I rolled onto one knee and groaned. That voice wasn't who I thought it was, was it?

I turned with a sinking feeling in my gut and took in the sight of Inuzuka Suzume waving at me from the side of the training area. If she did it with any more enthusiasm I wouldn't be surprised to see her arm tear itself out of its socket and go flying off down the length of the training field. What the hell was she doing here?

"Hello, Suzume-san," I called out warily as I approached her, "How did you get into the compound, may I ask?"

"The gate guard let me in," she replied cheerily, and suddenly grabbed my hand and started dragging me along after her as she headed in what I was pretty sure was the direction of the exit to the compound. I set my feet and we ground to a halt. Suzume was left digging her heels into the ground, her face contorted in intense effort. She pulled with both hands, digging in her heels angrily.

"And why exactly did the gate guard let you in?" I asked somewhat rudely. This girl was the textbook definition of an extravert. Loud, friendly, talkative and no sense of boundaries. In other words, a rabid energy vampire, just like my last job.

And my ex-wife.

She let go of my hand and walked behind me, where she proceeded to put both hands in the small of my back and push. It was like trying to move a stone pillar. She grunted and moaned and pushed with all she had, but I wasn't budging. Finally I'd had enough. I stepped forwards suddenly, and with a silly squeal of surprise she toppled onto the ground face first.

She was up like a shot, glaring at me. The glare wasn't an especially frightening one since she was just a five year old, but it was an angry one. And a cute one. "Reiji-san! Don't be mean."

Her mouth curled into an adorable pout, and her eyes screwed themselves half shut. I however was unmoved. For some reason looks like this could sway most of the adults in this world. They folded like lawn chairs before a cute kid. I on the other hand seemed to have a resistance to it. Maybe it was a cultural thing?

"You come here and try and drag me around to the Hokage only knows where, and suddenly I'm the mean one? Last time I checked that wouldn't make me mean, that would make me perfectly within my rights."

She frowned, and put her hands on her hips imperiously. "I need someone to hang out with me, and I chose you. Because friends are supposed to hang out with each other."

"We are not friends. We met yesterday and you accused me of me of conspiracy. We are casual acquaintances at best. And don't you have Hatake Kakashi to hang out with? Why don't you go bother him instead?"

Her frown deepened. "Kakashi-san is training. He'd be angry if I interrupted him."

"And what do you think this is," I gestured to the training field and to the spot where I had fallen over, "Do you think I won't be angry that you interrupted my training?"

"No," she answered in the typical five year old tone of voice, which implied that I was stupid for even attempting to question her logic, "Kakashi-san is smarter than you so his training matters more. And since we're not friends yet I thought you'd like the chance to get to know me better."

Unnoticed by me a tendon in my neck started to twitch, and a vain in my forehead bulged grotesquely. Upon seeing this, Suzume backed away slightly as if aware of some kind of cosmic warning sign that I was not. I felt the anger beginning to bloom. The shear arrogance of her statement, along with the insult to my intelligence. I clenched my fist and watched as her eyes were drawn to it as my knuckles slowly went white, and my fingernails cut into my palm ever so slightly.

I could tell that she had realised her mistake. She fidgeted nervously and looked down at the ground. "It was just a joke Reiji-san, I didn't mean it."

"Ohh you meant it alright," I replied, my voice somehow seeming to regain some of the menace it had held back in the old days. I took a deep breath to get the anger under control. I had my breaking points, the same as any other person. So far I'd had to take a punch to the face by an arrogant kid without retaliating, endure the ensuing scrutiny, then conversations with people I didn't want to interact with, and restrain myself from beating up an equally arrogant little girl. And my patience was running at an all-time low.

It was a miracle I hadn't done something I would be hard pressed to get away with by now. And I wanted to, god how I wanted to. But even I wasn't about to cut loose on a little girl who had already apologised. "You've just realised that I was this close to knocking you unconscious," I continued, holding out my hand with my two fingers millimetres away from each other.

She looked up, and I could see irritation in her eyes as well. "No you wouldn't. I'm really good at Taijutsu! It's my best subject at home."

And just like that, the control I'd been working so hard to exercise over my own emotions gave ground. Only a small bit, but that was just enough for me to do something stupid. Now, I will always be the first person to say that I'm a bully. Haven't always been. I used to be the guy that kids bullied in school. Everyone used to gang up on me, and I was always left alone in the centre of a jeering crowd of children, the only one without anyone to back him up. It's the reason why, I would guess, I became a criminal in the first place. I suppose it's a bit self-serving to say that. Essentially I'm saying that I was made like this by others, that I hold no blame for my actions. I'm a product of my environment. That isn't true. I'm entirely to blame, but I also feel entirely justified.

Because I wasn't about to let go of my pride and just take the abuse. Who would? Surrender their sense of self-worth out of fear. Though I was the one who everyone looked down on, I was still the most prideful. A cruel dichotomy. It made the insults and the physical shows of superiority hurt all the more. But if there is one thing on this Earth, or that Earth, that you can always be sure of, it is that prideful people will always fight the hardest. They have the most to lose you see? Their own self-worth, which to them is worth more than gold.

And any attack on it is punishable in my eyes. It didn't matter that Suzume was ill-informed regarding me, or that she was just a dumb kid. I had let too many insults slip for the sake of blending in. It was time that some of the old Stephen Aldridge was allowed out of the cage.

I lowered my fingers slowly, the mime no longer necessary. She'd just pushed me the last few millimetres, and now I was going to push back. This time harder than she'd ever been pushed before. "Really?" I asked, expression challenging, daring her to be defiant. She didn't disappoint.

"Yeah," she answered boldly, standing up straight.

"Yeah," I mimicked her voice, making it sound as pathetic as I could. Not very hard, I just made it sound like every other misinformed little shit who'd ever stepped up to me, and was left curled up on the floor, blubbering like an infant. I managed to concentrate all my malice and disdain for every one of those pitiful sods into that one word, and I could see the anger that suddenly blazed in Suzume's eyes. "Yeah," I went on, "Look at the little girl acting all tough and hard. A little nobody with delusions of grandeur. Come on then, take a swing little nobody! Let me show you what I think of your **best subject**." I put a deliberate mocking edge to the last bit, goading her into doing what I asked. And she did.

She took a lightning fast swing, far quicker than Naoki had swung at the clan meeting, and clocked me in the side of the face. It was a good hit too. Snapped my head to the side, and would have knocked me off my feet if I hadn't braced myself beforehand. I'd prepared myself for it, and it wasn't as bad as I expected. Or maybe that was just my hell-born tolerance for pain rearing its head again. No matter what it was, Suzume wasn't prepared for what happened next. Inexperienced opponents always do one of two things when they throw the first punch. Either they stop to observe the reaction, or they immediately throw a second punch with the other hand. Both of these things are drilled out of students by academy basic taijutsu in the first class. The first, for obvious reasons, the second because experienced fighters always anticipate a follow-up.

But whatever she would have decided to do, I didn't allow her to. I shook off the first strike, snapping my head back forwards like a rubber band. A perfect forward motion, no readjusting for differences in height, since we were both the same. My headbutt knocked her neatly off her feet like bowling ball knocking over pins. She hit the floor like one as well, with a loud wham that knocked up dust off the ground like someone had just wacked a blackboard duster with their hand.

I shook away the brief moment of dizziness, and observed her as she curled up into a foetal position with her head cradled in her hands. I could hear gasps of pain, but no blubbing interestingly enough. I expected her to start crying almost immediately. Being a kid and all, I wouldn't have thought she'd be able to tough it out through a blow that vicious. Guess I didn't give the kid enough credit. She handled it admirably. Got up unsteadily, backpedalling a bit as if she expected me to hit her while she was down. She staggered backwards, almost losing her balance trying to avoid a strike that I wasn't going to make. She was too far out of it now to be worth it. Her head would be swimming, her vision would be blurring with tears she'd be desperately trying to hold at bay, and her balance would be shot all to hell.

She still refused to cry though. No sobs, just a determined if slightly foggy look in her eyes. She lunged forwards again, but swung too early. I sidestepped with ease, and as her face turned to follow me, I slapped it. A big, open handed slap that sent her to the ground once again. If I punched her there was a good chance I might break bone like Naoki had with my nose. I just wanted her to be in so much pain the thought of continuing the fight would be a non-option.

But her insistence to continue the fight gave me a clue as to what kind of person she was. A bit like me it turned out. Too much pride to stay down, hopelessly trying to prove herself so that she could look in the mirror and see something she liked. Prideful people always keep fighting, but at the same time they're the easiest to tear down. Hubris.

"How tough are you now?" I asked rhetorically, knowing that at that exact moment, the same kind of thoughts where going through her head. I thought I was better than this. How will I ever live this down? I can't give up now.

"If you're going to stand up, stand up. If you're going to stay down, then stay down. Hurry up and choose one will you, stop wasting my time."

And she got up. Slowly, like a scene out of the Last Samurai, she got up with blood dripping from a slit lip and some oozing from her nose. It wasn't broken, I judged from a distance. Just a nose bleed.

She swung again, this one painfully slow. She was in no condition to fight, but she would continue until she was in no condition to live. In her mind, there were no choices in this situation. Just a one track line headed into oblivion. Keep fighting until you win. The hope that persistence would carry you through. But with every blow that I landed on her, her own got slower, and weaker. And she couldn't tell because her head was so addled by the pain.

I stepped back, and then to the side, avoiding her with almost facile ease. And then I started regretting it. I looked at her bruised face, and suddenly recognised that this was just a five year old girl. Jesus, she could have been my daughter if I'd ever had kids. Suddenly, she lunged forwards again, putting more of her flagging energy into it than before. I was a bad move, made by a person who was too out of it to know better. I stepped to the side and pushed on the back of her head as she went past, and once again she hit the ground and threw up dust. She just missed hitting her head off the compound wall by centimetres.

I looked around. No-one in sight. She'd managed to drag me out of the training fields before I'd started resisting. No witnesses, lucky me.

"Stay down," I ordered. Predictably, she ignored me and tried to get up. I wasn't having any of it. She was only going to end up committing suicide via Crouching Reiji, Hidden Aldridge. I wasn't about to euthanize her for being an idiot. I straddled her from behind and put both of my hands on either side of her neck, ready to put just enough pressure on her arteries to cut of oxygen to the brain and knock her out. It would be just like flipping a light switch. "Stay down," I growled in her ear, hooking both my thumbs around the back of her neck to make sure she didn't slam the back of her head into my face. She stopped struggling.

"This was a mistake, okay? We're not fighting anymore. You hear me?"

She briefly tried struggling again, but I held her head down forcefully in the dust. "Understand?"

Finally, after a pregnant moment that left me wondering what exactly I was going to do if she refused, she mumbled back a reply, "Okay."

I got off her, blocked a sneaky jab at my privates, and slapped her again. "Nice try. Not falling for that."

I propped her up against the wall while she cradled the side of her burning face and nursed my own injury. My cheek was swelling a bit, and it had an infinitesimal cut on the inside where I'd last been hit by Naoki. Important to take the first hit without complaint. You then have physical proof that you were wronged in some way, which makes it easier for people to believe you're one of the victims. That, and taking their first hit and shrugging it off discourages them. Suzume didn't know it, but that was one of the great advantages of her persistence. If she worked on endurance a bit, she could turn it into something great.

Wonder how I was going to explain this away? Training accident? More importantly, how would I explain Suzume being in this state? Come on brain, a few bright ideas would be nice right about now….

Sweet fuck all presented itself to me. Then I realised something. And the implications floored me for a second. Ohh fuck.

"Bastard."

I turned to regard her angrily. "Shut up. You're getting off easy. This is what you wanted isn't it? Goad me into kicking the shit out of you, then get me in trouble for it? That's what you were after right, just like I did at the clan meeting?"

Her face went through a mixture of emotions, hampered somewhat by the bruises, most prevalently disgust and fury. "I did not! You goaded me!"

She seemed entirely genuine. Maybe I credited her with too much intelligence. She was a hyperactive little shit after all. But what I saw from her in the fight didn't really fit with my image of a hyperactive extrovert. Refusing to give up, even when it was clear she had lost. Refusing to cry. Too much pride and focus for a five year old. Or maybe I was just reading too much into it. God this was going to be a long day. "Just go home then," I snarled angrily, getting up and brushing dust off my knees, "And if you really didn't mean to come here and set me up, then say it was a training accident."

"_Screw you motherfucker_, I'm not covering for you_!"_

I carried on walking for a few more paces, then my brain registered what she said. I turned back, and stared. She glared back, then looked embarrassed, like she'd said something private. She glared at me when she noticed that I was staring at her, "Okay, I'll cover for you. Go away."

But I wasn't listening. I was too busy deciding if I was going nuts or not. I could have sworn she just cursed at me in English. In English. Not Japanese.

She couldn't have….she couldn't be….

"_Did you just speak English?"_

She looked up so quickly, I thought she'd give herself whiplash. We stood like for a few seconds, neither of us quite believing what we'd just discovered. I never really asked or thought about what she could have been thinking at that moment. But I know exactly what was going through my head. This little idiot kid couldn't possibly be like me. She couldn't possibly have escaped the Pit like I had. She was a complete mess, a goof, with all the emotional stability of a drug addict and the self-preservation of an adrenaline junkie.

"How are you…," She started to ask, then stopped herself. Then the ghost of a smile tried to spread across her face. _"Ohh my god, you're like me aren't you? You're from another dimension!"_

Well, there's something you don't hear every day. It might seem to anyone reading this that I should be ecstatic to find someone like me, someone who didn't belong here. Someone I could talk to or something, who understood. That was not what I was thinking. As soon as the words 'like me' filtered through my brain, I went into defensive overdrive. I widened my fighting stance and stared at her for any sign of hostility. Like me was not a good thing to be. I got here because I was a criminal, a murderer and a cheat. I got here for being enough of a bastard to be sent to hell and clever and determined enough to retain my mental faculties long enough to escape.

And if what she said was true, then she had been as bad, if not worse in her previous life. I flinched as she tried to get up, but moaned at the bruises and the pain. Now I was looking at her in a new light. What sort of cunning lay behind that cute five year old face, what kind of plan was she currently concocting to do away with me? I knew I was calculating as fast as I could, on how to kill this threat before it could make a move on me. But something stopped me. Why did she sound and look so genuinely pleased to see me? If she was really like me, then how come she didn't put up more of a fight? Why had she smiled? "Look, can I have a bit of help?"

She had started trying to get up, and was now looking embarrassed. She wasn't steady enough on her feet to get up without assistance. Get up close with a killer who now knows who I am, and that I'm a possible threat? Nope, not happening.

"Use the wall," I commanded calmly, still half in and half out of my taijutsu stance. She glared at me, "That's not fair! You're the one who beat me up, you should help me."

"If you really are like me, then you should have known better than to start the fight in the first place," I replied curtly. Let her think of that what she will. I wasn't getting within arm's reach of her. "Use the wall," I repeated.

"I didn't know you were like me. And you didn't know I was like you, so that means you beat up a five year old girl!"

What the hell was she trying to accomplish? You can't guilt a career criminal into helping you just because he beat up one poxy five year old. I frowned, but decided to follow her logic. "Okay, I didn't know. And I did kick the shit out of what I thought was a five year old girl. Then again," I pointed out calmly, still eyeing her cautiously, "You just tried to beat up a five year old boy, who you also didn't know was like you. So you're just as at fault as I am."

She stuttered indignantly for a second. "But I'm a girl!"

I smiled easily. "And apparently a sexist as well," I provided the rejoinder smoothly. She opened and closed her mouth, clearly furious, but in no state to get up and try and face me down. I was starting to have serious doubts about her now. She couldn't have been an escapee from hell. She was a bloody marshmallow. Couldn't take a punch to save her life. She knew the taijutsu stances, sure. But that was all book learnt. I wouldn't have put her age that much above her physical appearance.

"You were being an asshole," she cried out, clearly finding the conversations direction to be less than to her liking. I started to relax a bit, then slapped myself internally. Never let down your guard. She might be lulling you into a false sense of security. I shifted back into the half taijutsu stance.

"And you were being a bitch, so I guess we're even."

She practically growled at me after that one. Suzume attempted to get up again, only to slide down the wall when she became dizzy once more. She shook her head, her eyes starting to glisten a bit with tears of frustration and embarrassment. "I thought it would be cool to have someone along with me for this," she mumbled out, clearly distressed, "We could do it together and help Naruto as a team or something. Like some sort of secret society."

She glared at me, "But now someone like me finally turns up and you turn out to be a dick!"

She scooped up a handful of dirt from the ground and slung it at me. It dissipated very quickly, being as dusty as it was. It barely made a light pattering on my pants leg as the particles floated lazily down onto my shoes. I was trying to work out what she was going on about. "And what's a Naruto when it's at home?" I asked.

She frowned, sniffling a bit, but still very clearly angry. Still hadn't eased out of my taijutsu stance. She was either very bad at keeping what could be valuable holdout information to herself, or she was filling the air with a bunch of outrageous lies and useless information to break my guard. I wasn't going to be foolish and leave an opening just because she put on a good act. "You know, Naruto," she said as if it explained all I needed to know in one random word, that didn't even sound like a real word. "The manga," she elaborated further. I still hadn't a clue what she was talking about. Something she seemed to notice.

"Are you sure you're from another dimension?" She asked hesitantly.

"Unless they hid the UK behind the couch and threw America out in the trash by accident," I replied, getting slightly irritated at her unhelpfulness, "Yeah, pretty damn sure."

She brightened a bit, looking unusually hopeful for a person with a swollen cheek. "You're from America too? Or are you from the UK?"

The question threw me, but only for a second. Now it was my turn to glare. She was trying to steer me away from relevant information. "None of your damn business. What's Naruto?"

Suzume seemed to draw strength from her irritation, because when I refused to answer the question her face fell only to be replaced with anger once again. This time she pulled herself up the wall and managed to find her footing. Now she stood across from me, still slightly unsteady, but seeming more firm and resolute than she had since the beginning of the fight. "No! We're stuck here together, and sooner or later we're going to have to help each other. So if you want to ask your questions, then you have to answer mine!"

Once again, I was thrown by her reply. She didn't quite understand how this worked did she? Or was this another trick, added to the long list of suspected tricks I had her pegged on? If she was aware of how dangerous I was, then she was really starting to push her luck. I took a step forwards, plastering a murderous expression on my face. She looked concerned for a millisecond, then hid it behind a mask of confidence. She was trying to call my bluff, but unfortunately for her, I wasn't bluffing. But before I reached out to grab her hair and put the fear of god into her little head, I stopped. I couldn't do this.

I'd forgotten, in the haze of letting my old instincts back out to work, that I wasn't in London anymore. I was in Konohagakure. I couldn't threaten people with impunity anymore. Especially not her. She was an Inuzuka. One of the main clans. And even if she had been a nobody, I still wouldn't be able to get away with it. People tended to notice when you nailed five year old girls to walls and started pulling fingernails. Ballsy little shit had called my bluff and I hadn't even realised I'd been bluffing.

I schooled my features. What she was asking was harmless information anyway, really. No-one could connect my name or face to the illusive fixer who used to run London. Just an email and phone number on a piece of white card. And without any access to records or information brokers, it was doubtful she'd ever be able to find out from a few personal details. Not that I even had my old face anymore.

Screw it. Even if this turned out to be a red herring, she was still gaining nothing for it.

"I'm from London," I answered abruptly.

The expression of confidence slowly left her face, to be replaced by satisfaction. She looked smug as well, something that was grinding my nerves. But under all that, I could see a bit of genuine interest. Now she would start fishing for information, and I planned to give her nothing but inconsequential details.

"Cool," she said.

I blinked. A bit surprising, I would have thought she was tired of playing the ditz act. I decided to play along. If she wanted to play question and answer, I was going to gather background as well. Might come in useful later. The more facts I had about her, the easier it would be to catch her out on a lie.

"And yourself?"

I expected a bit of a delay in her answering, as she weighed up the pros and cons of giving information away. Again, I was thrown when she just came right out and replied. "Jacksonville, Florida."

Involuntarily, I groaned. She looked at me in surprise. "What's wrong with Jacksonville?"

I shrugged, "Nothing against Jacksonville. I know nothing about the place."

I couldn't stand Americans. Especially the kind I usually dealt with. They didn't understand the rules. They thought that criminals were like businessmen, that you could be judged by the amount of money you made and the number of people you had on your payroll. They had no respect for the history of the profession. You could find more criminal history in each individual brick in the East End of London than you'd find in the entirety of New York. Then again, maybe I was a romantic that way.

"So what's Naruto?"

I was determined to get the conversation back on track. Suzume frowned, then crossed her arms. The universal sign of belligerence. God, what I wouldn't give to be able to beat it out of her. "Why should I tell you? You hit me."

"You hit first," I countered.

"You were being a dick!"

This was really starting to get tiresome. Wish I was back in the East End. You beat the shit out of your best friends just as often as you beat up your worst enemies. Roughhousing for a bit of a laugh came with the territory. Once again, the yank didn't understand the rules.

"Look, you were the one who said we had to cooperate right? I don't see why. But you seem to know something I don't, and if you don't want to tell me, then fucking say so. Don't dangle it under my nose like a fucking bone."

Suzume fidgeted, and glared at me some more. It wasn't very intimidating honestly. Kind of hard to be intimidated by a five year old you just slapped around like a football. She winced as she shifted a few bruised muscles. She'd been wincing a lot more over the last few minutes. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain would come in full force.

"I know one of the medic Nin," I offered stiffly, "She patches me up if I make mistakes in training. I could take you to see her if you want."

"What, so you can get rid of the evidence?" She was hostile. Of course it was understandable, but I still wished she'd shut up and accept the olive branch.

"For fuck sake, cut the bullshit. You want to draw attention to yourself? Go right on ahead. At the end of the day it's your word against mine, no witnesses and when all's said and done you are the one who threw the first punch. You really want to play with those cards?"

Suzume glared at me, but said nothing.

"What is making a big deal out of all this going to accomplish? Nothing that I can see. I'm not bothered. Don't know about you, but there's no ill will on my part. And I want to know what you know. And you might benefit as well from some of the things I know. Maybe if it's mutually beneficial, we can help each other, right? That is what you said you wanted."

I could see the wheels and cogs turning in her brain, as she mulled it over. She still looked angry, but she seemed more hesitant now. Unsure of the situation. I eased out of the taijutsu stance. It was fine to be cautious, but I just couldn't see any way that she could be dangerous. No-one was that good of an actor. Sure, I'd met people who could adlib, but nothing on this scale. I hadn't seen any sign of dishonesty, just a lot of things pointing in the same direction. Confused little girl.

"Look," I said softly as I held out my hand and stepped forward slowly, "I'm sorry about all this okay? I shouldn't have hit you."

She looked at my hand, and unclasped one of her arms. She shook my hand, hesitantly at first, the dirt from her scrabbling on the ground leaving an imprint on my palm. "I'm not saying sorry," she replied in a half-hearted attempt to save face.

I was tempted to say I was satisfied with the beating I'd given her, but I knew that antagonising her now wouldn't get me anything.

"Never asked you to," I substituted calmly, "So you want to go see that medic, or not?"

She looked me in the eyes for a second before replying.

"Okay."

I motioned with my head and took a few steps in the indicated direction, waiting for her to follow. Which she did, albeit grudgingly. "I'm Stephen," I said, deciding to volunteer information up front. I'd kind of walked all over her in the conversation, and in the fight as well. There wasn't a chance in hell that she would answer any questions, because she was still trying to save face. So I'd offer her some bait to get the ball rolling. She scowled, but didn't offer her name in return. Sore looser then. Pride sucked sometimes.

"Not a big talker then. Okay."

We walked in silence for a few more seconds. Sometimes being friendly to butter up a mark was a real chore. I sighed internally.

"You hit hard," I tried again, "Naoki hit like a girl. But you; if I hadn't been expecting it I would have been the one on the ground."

Not sure if that was true or not. Might be. Wouldn't have stayed down of course, but she didn't need to hear that. We walked on for a few more seconds. Still nothing. Her lips had twitched when I said that Naoki hit like a girl though. Or it might have been my imagination.

"You know…" I began again, but this time Suzume cut me off before I could finish.

"Would you ever shut up? It's embarrassing to listen to you."

My fist twitched. "Okay then," I said evenly.

We walked the rest of the way to the medic's house in silence, myself pondering how I was supposed to sooth Suzume's bruised ego, while Suzume glared at the ground in front of her. I didn't look her way, deciding that she wouldn't appreciate my scrutiny. The silence was like a weight in the air. We both wanted to say something. But Suzume was probably feeling angry at her failure to come out on top, and I didn't want to push her. If I pushed her now, she'd end up hating me even more than she already did.

I was really starting to miss simplicity. Wonder what it was getting up to nowdays?

"Riley."

I looked at Suzume, who looked about ready to start throwing punches again. I nodded at her, and swallowed a bit more of my own pride to force out the next few words as well as make them sound as sincere as possible. "Thank you."

She nodded back and placed her gaze once more on the ground in front of us. Why did diplomacy always have to be such a pain in the arse?

* * *

**Authors Note**:_ I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. It was kind of tricky to get all the details of Stephen's personality into words and still remain consistent. Then again, human beings aren't really consistent to begin with, so I have no idea what kind of sense that makes. So, now we know that Stephen is not the only one knocking around outside of their own dimension. How she got here is a story for another chapter, once she and Stephen make up enough to get over the rough start they've had._

_The reason for Riley/Suzume as I'm sure you've already guessed, is to have someone present in the story who knows the full picture so to speak, and can question Stephen's actions on behalf of the rest of us. Imagine her as the typical self insert sort of character, who knows Naruto inside and out, reads fan fiction, has a huge crush on some of the characters and is generally going to try and help at every turn because she wants to be her own version of a Mary Sue. Also, I want her there so I can poke fun at some of the things normal self-inserts do. Now I'm not saying she will be a Mary Sue. Because lets face it, we have enough of those to last a lifetime. And I'm definitely not making Reiji into Gary Stu. I am going to make him as morally questionable as possible. So much so I'm actually concerned you'll start disliking him on principle for being such a dick. But there you go. I guess if you already think he's stepped a bit too far over the line by beating up a five year old in a fit of anger, it might be a good idea to let me know where you want the boundaries to be set._

_Thank you to Kurokaneko: Yes, Stephen is going to be a quasi-antagonist. A bit of an anti-hero. No worries on that account._

_anoonishtea and wickedlfairy17: Thank you for the reviews, and also I'm loving the avatar for your account fairy!_

_ClownWhosFeelnDown: I hope I can make it interesting enough for you to keep reading :-)_

_I hope you all have a lovely day! _


	5. Chapter 4

**Again, still age 5.**

* * *

In another life, at another time, I can honestly say that I had an extreme phobia of doctors. And hospitals, and that particular brand of bleach that the NHS uses. I spent a lot of time in hospitals during my first childhood. Stuck around all those sick people, the fake smiles of public servants who disliked having to deal with children wandering around the wards. I hated the stench of hopelessness, the despair and the embarrassment. Which remarkably wasn't overpowered by the bleach. I hated the fact that my dad was one of those people. That the person in my life I'd always looked up to, seen as the one constant I could always rely on was actually as mortal as the rest of us.

After hell however, phobias seem small comparatively. I barely even blinked as I stepped into the waiting room and sat down, my nose filling with the familiar scent of bleach. Someone had probably been sick in here recently. I scanned the seats and the floor carefully, and noticed the discoloured patch on the seat to my right. My parents filed in after me. I had forged ahead without them. They'd been taking too long with all the clan members who came up to chat. Wasn't going to complain though. They were the clan heads after all, they had to keep in touch. I just let them get on with it.

My dad noticed the discoloured seat when I surreptitiously pointed it out to him. And here comes the conundrum. Two unoccupied seats, which one of them has to draw the short straw? Shikako blinked ominously, stole a sideways glance at Mikazuki, who seemed none the wiser to the silent situation we found ourselves in. Gently, he laid a hand on my mother's back and guided her into the other seat. He sat down next to me and graced my mother with such a look of utter affection that I just had to grin. Rose tinted glasses. Even though he was apparently one of the most dangerous and perceptive Shinobi in the village, his family was his blind spot. He didn't notice the way Mikazuki's eyes filled with mirth and the way her crow's feet deepened ever so slightly. Or he did and he decided that it didn't matter. I looked away before my mother caught me catching her tells. She knew the score.

Wives always know, even if sometimes they choose to ignore, or to forget. You can't be that close to someone and not lay a part of yourself bare to them. Another reason why I divorced. I settled down into the seat and brooded inwardly. Then I caught myself and shook it off. Sometimes I had to remind myself not to start thinking about her again. Not to entertain the familiar desire for reconciliation. It was a bad idea in my previous life, and it was an impossibility in my new life. I pushed the memories of soft touches and old love out of my mind and went back to thinking about hospitals. And it was in that train of thought that the doctor interrupted me as she entered the room, ushering out the patient who'd been in before us. "Nara Reiji?" She asked questioningly, and my father nodded as I dragged myself out of an internal debate surrounding the merits of the British health system vs the German equivalent.

I stood up and walked forwards, keen on powering through this whole check-up as quickly and productively as possible. Apparently it was standard practise among most of the main clans to put new applicants to the academy through some tests, just to make sure they were ready. Something that my father had failed to mention to me. Needless to say, when he told me that I had a medical coming up and explained the particulars, I was furious. I hate when people spring things on me like that. Preparation is the key to success. And if you don't have the time you need to prepare appropriately then the odds of success are always lower than you'd like them to be.

I'd essentially spent the last few weeks training, studying, eating and sleeping on a carefully defined schedule. My big brother Shikaku had found me less than pleasant company over that time. I'd dragged him out of his patches of shade and comfort, essentially forcing him to participate in my sparring sessions. Understandably angry, he did his best to beat me to a pulp so he could go back to lazing around. Those sessions were some of the most successful I'd ever had with him. Not to say that I won of course. I was still only five years old. Shikaku was seventeen, and a Chūnin. He won every time. But fighting something so challenging that it was quite literally beyond my ability to overcome was an almost perfect way to improve.

"We'll be right outside Reiji-chan," Mikazuki called after me. I raised my hand lazily and waved, looking the very picture of unconcerned. I met the doctor's eyes as I passed. She had blue eyes. But she was a Nara, and she had the signature black hair. More conformation that the Yamanaka and the Nara interbreed I thought to myself. I stepped into the room, and waited for her to indicate which of the seats was for myself. I was assuming that the large leather one was hers, but you never can tell.

As I thought, she motioned me towards the other, a more modest leather seat with an adjustable back, sat down and started laying out some instruments on her workbench. "So Reiji-chan," she began. I frowned slightly at the use of that particular honorific. I would have preferred san, but I kept forgetting that I wasn't actually her equal in age. But still, chan was generally used for people who the speaker found cute, or diminutive. My inner pride growled in protest, but I sucked it up and just listened to what she had to say.

"You're going to the academy are you?"

Ohh Christ, I thought she was actually going to ask something relevant. More bloody fool me. I resisted the urge to remind her that the entire reason for these tests was my desire to enter the academy, but stopped myself. She was just trying to make small talk, put me at ease. Something I resented, because I was perfectly capable of remaining calm on my own. But still…

"Evidently," I replied, wishing that I was older. That word coming out of the mouth of a child as young as me just sounded bratty. I grimaced inwardly.

She gave me a look, the one where a person is trying to figure out whether you're being smart with them or not. She brushed it off however, and picked up a Senbon off the table. I tensed at the unexpected appearance of the weapon, but she just smiled. "That's interesting, mostly it's only the older ninja who react like that."

I held still as she pricked a vain on my arm with the needle and syphoned off a small amount of blood to place on a cylindrical piece of paper. Immediately, a long line of writing appeared on the surface. Medical terms, blood pressure, mineral and vitamin content, chakra statistics. My mouth formed a half smile of appreciation. Specialised fuuinjutsu I surmised, had to be. I asked as much of the doctor, who smiled back. "Yes it is. Jiraiya-sama, one of the Sannin is very gifted when it comes to fuuinjutsu. What he sealed inside to make this work may not be obvious, but it's very effective."

"You've met one of the Sannin?" I asked, slightly impressed by the claim. Someone says they've spoken with one of the three most talented Shinobi of their generation, I consider it advisable to listen for insider information.

"Well," she amended slightly as she syphoned off a bit more of my blood to use on a few more tests, these ones a little less complicated than the fuuinjutsu sheet, "Yes and no. I've never met Jiraiya, but Tsunade tutored myself and some others at one point. I wouldn't say we were particularly close, but she did twist Jiraiya's arm until he put together a few of these every week for me and my old classmates."

'My old classmates and I,' I corrected her silently. I swear, some people. Not only was it better grammar, but it was also proper to refer to yourself after others in that context. Then again, my grasp of Japanese wasn't that good. They might prefer to do things differently here. I nodded quietly, filing away this conversation for later examination. "I noticed your eyes on the way in," I continued the conversation onto something that I thought might be interesting, "You're related to a Yamanaka, somewhere along the line?"

The skin around her mouth tightened, and her brow furrowed for half a second. I watched, very interested in the reaction. Bad blood existed here, between her and who I couldn't tell, but I just might have found a good subject for conversation. As soon as she had regained control over her expression, she smiled. A quite genuine smile, and if I hadn't seen the previous expressions that had passed over her face, I would have been taken in by its apparent sincerity. "Yes. My mother is a Yamanaka shinobi, and my father is a Nara clan doctor."

I considered this, then latched onto anything that might give me a clue as to the source of her feelings on the matter. "You said doctor, and not medical nin? Your father isn't a shinobi?"

Again, the tightness around her mouth, clenched teeth beneath an apparently friendly smile. She seemed to be studying my own expression as well. Her eyes scanned my mouth, my brow and my forehead in quick succession, but always came back to rest on my eyes. Amateur facial analysis, still thought that the eyes were windows to the soul or some such nonsense. You can tell more from the areas around the mouth than from the eyes. But most people get too caught up by the stereotypical face reading hocus. 'I can see it in your eyes,' is not a factual saying.

"No. He is a civilian doctor," she provided in a friendly tone, "Something that most people see as rather superfluous, considering how much more effective medical Nin are. But my father does good work. He is a well-respected member of the community."

"And your mother?"

"Also well respected," she said, but I could tell she was omitting part of the truth. She paused for a second too long before answering, "Very well versed in Yamanaka clan techniques. She served with the ANBU for some years before settling down with my father."

"The two clans disapproved of the union?" I hazarded a guess, a stab in the dark. It was the only thing that might make sense to me. The doctor laughed bitterly, the fake smile still plastered over her mouth. I could tell that this was an old grievance, and that I might be opening up old wounds by prying. Then again, she probably opened up these wounds herself, at least weekly. Wounds still hurt, no matter how many times you open them up. Pays to deal with it yourself, until the pain just becomes background noise. Gives you something to be proud about in the end. Knowing that the entire world could rise against you, and you would still dare to fight. Why would you be proud of that? Because fuck them, that's why.

"They were fine with the relationship between my father and mother. When I was the result of that relationship, then they took issue."

"Children are the natural progression of any romantic relationship," I parroted back at her, using the exact same argument that my ex-wife had used to try and convince me to get her pregnant. Not the exact same words, but close enough. I agreed with her in the general sense, but I sure as hell didn't want children for myself. Especially since I'd been entertaining thoughts of divorce without her knowledge. That particular conversation sped that decision along to the inevitable conclusion.

"Something the clan heads found convenient to forget until it became a problem for them," she re-joined. "I don't think they would have minded so much if my father was a Shinobi. Or if my mother had not been. Or even if they had been part of the same clan. But diluting the blood of an accomplished shinobi line with that of a civilian doctor? And the debate as to which clan would have to take the child, and which clan would teach that child its techniques?"

She was referring to herself in the third person. A distancing mechanism. A defensive mechanism. Reading people is a vital part of being a successful businessman. I've never been a doctor, and no one in their right mind would ever approve me to be a psychiatrist, not with my long list of issues. But people are like books to me. So simple, so commonplace. I've never heard or seen anything in my life to do with a human being that surprised me. It's always the same: Ohh, my next-door neighbour killed the dog? Bound to happen sooner or later. She didn't understand what she was getting into when she bought it. The Catholic Church is full of people who bugger children and allow former Hitler youth to lead them? What do you expect from people who wilfully consign themselves to a life of chastity?

A prominent politician bought sex with multiple prostitutes? Definitely not surprising. How can they resist when people like me are marketing it to them? Hook, line and sinker.

I considered what she had told me. The pure of blood thing could make sense I suppose. I didn't know if genetics played a part in if you were Shinobi material or not, and I didn't know if it was effected by how pure your bloodline was. The logic behind keeping the clans techniques safe however? I could understand that. Two parents, each from different clans with secret techniques? And one child who would learn one of those two sets of techniques if they proved to be capable? A security nightmare. If it was me in charge of that whole gig, I would have staged an accident and knocked off both the loving parents and the swaddling babe at once. Or aborted the child. Easier that way.

But why was it a problem between two clans as close as the Yamanaka and the Nara? It boggled the mind. We have a bond with each other stronger than blood! But if you fuck outside your clan we will chop your bollocks off, clear?

"What do they expect people to do? Keep fucking their first cousins until people start growing extra fingers and toes?"

She flinched ever so slightly, and her expression took on an edge of extreme disapproval. "Reiji-chan, I'm not sure how your parents raised you, but mine taught me not to use such vulgar words."

And if you were my parent I'd give a fuck, I felt inclined to say. But I restrained myself. Pissing her off would be counterintuitive to what I was trying to accomplish. I kept forgetting that I was a child here. I raised my hands to appear contrite. "I apologise. But my point still stands. You cannot interbreed within a single clan forever. You need genetic diversity for the offspring to be healthy. And, while I'm no doctor, I know that that need is not an optional one. You are probably more familiar with the ins and outs of it than me."

She nodded vehemently, "That is absolutely correct. A lack of genetic diversity can lead to complications in childbirth. Stillborn children, genetic abnormalities and the like are all well documented. Particularly in the Uchiha and Hyūga clans."

"I don't even know why they bother," I continued, following up while the iron was hot, "Anyone with half a brain can work out the basics of any of the supposedly secret clan techniques through continued observation. My father hasn't even started me on the basics as of yet, but I still managed to replicate some of the functionality."

I put my hand palm-down on the table to illustrate my point, and a tiny wisp of shadow reached out and linked itself with the shadow of the Senbon on the table. With some effort, I was able to roll the tiny metal pick towards my hand, until it bumped against my fingertips. I picked it up and showed it to her. "And that's not even counting the influence of the Uchiha into the mix," I said, waving the Senbon around emphatically.

Her gaze was boring into the Senbon in my hand, and then to my face. "You didn't make a hand seal," she said with a frown.

"No I did not," I agreed, "I said, that's because my father hasn't taught them to me yet."

She opened her mouth to ask a follow-up question, but then her brow furrowed further as if something had just grabbed her attention. "Wait, what about the influence of the Uchiha?"

I placed the Senbon down one the table, and shrugged as if it was obvious. Which to me, it was. "The Sharingan of course. It's a well-known fact that they allow the user extreme clarity of perception, and almost eidetic memory. It's a simple matter for them to copy almost any jutsu they see. And with the amount of time that our clans have all lived in this village together, I think it's an impossibility that the so called secret techniques could have remained secret up until now. Especially from the Uchiha."

I could tell that she had never considered this before. She mulled it over for a second, then nodded slowly. "That makes a lot of sense actually. But why do the clan heads bother to enforce the same rules and boundaries if they are essentially pointless?"

"If I was to guess," I said, leaning backwards in the chair and swinging my feet idly, "Tradition. It's the only way they know how to do things, and like many people who were raised in a highly traditional society, deviation from the established norms frightens them. Personally, I think the current system is outdated."

She nodded in understanding and agreement, and I could tell I'd accomplished what I'd intended. Nothing fosters a sense of comradery like agreement on a shared passion. Personally, I didn't care overly much about clan politics or the rules I had just been having a go at. I agreed with my argument against it of course, but I didn't really care. As a criminal, I existed outside of the confines of laws and regulations. They had no impact on me. I broke them, and as long as I wasn't caught I'd continue on breaking them. But evidently the doctor cared.

And now she thought I cared as well. She looked at me and smiled in appreciation, "You know, you're remarkably well informed for a child of your age. It's almost like I'm talking to an adult."

I smiled back at her, a well disguised fake. Translated that meant, 'I wouldn't have thought a five year old could be this smart, but since you agree with me you must be.' Everyone has an ego. You just have to learn the right ways to ingratiate yourself to it, and people are putty in your hands. It might help down the line for the doctor and me to be on good terms. If I ever needed someone, or even myself patched up on the down-low. "Thank you, my mom and dad say I'm pretty smart for my age."

"They're right," she said, "You'll go far in life with that mind of yours, Reiji-chan."

Settling back into her chair, she took a sheet of paper and ticked off the majority of the boxes, then her expression brightened considerably. "Well, it looks like we're almost done here. We just have one more test, and then that's the lot."

She opened a desk draw and drew out a small wooden box with a sliding lid, which she proceeded to open. It was finely polished wood, the same colour that you might see on antique furniture. A deep brown with a reddish tinge. I would have smiled and nodded appreciatively, if I hadn't have been so focused on the slip of what looked like grey parchment that she drew out. It was about the same size as one of my old business cards, I noted.

She handed it to me. "Now, I want you to push a small amount of your chakra into your hand, and into the paper. Don't alter anything. Just let it flow naturally, we don't want to corrupt the results."

I looked at the paper, trying to divine its purpose. Chakra sensitive litmus paper? Was she testing my affinity? I was under the impression that people had their affinity tested in the academy, or after the academy. Maybe my parents wanted me tested sooner? Or maybe this was something else entirely? I shrugged inwardly, and did what I was told. I pushed chakra into my hand and observed the reaction. For a second, nothing happened as the chakra ran into my hand and started seeping into the paper. Then I saw it. Like I'd just soaked the bottom of the parchment in sooty water, a wave of black was overtaking it from my hand upwards. After less than three seconds, the entire slip of parchment was jet black. I looked at the doctor.

Her jaw had literally dropped open. Then she snapped it closed again and fixed me with a worried look. Reaching into the box, she drew out another slip and handed it to me. "Can you do that again please? And remember what I said about letting the chakra flow naturally. Don't alter it in any way."

I might have felt insulted that she didn't trust me to do something so simple, but this didn't feel like a good sign. I did what she asked once again, pushing my chakra out and into the paper. It yielded the exact same result. A pitch black slip of paper, laid down beside the first on the table. "I take it that this isn't a good sign," I commented acidly.

She shook her head, but offered me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry Reiji-chan, it's probably just a bad batch of chakra paper."

She reached into her desk again and pulled out a brown paper packet, rather like the ones I used to get sweets in as a child, (during my first life, obviously) and pulled out a whole bundle of the pieces of chakra sensitive paper. She unwrapped them and handed me a piece, working hard to keep the anxiety from her face. At that point, I was beginning to share some of that anxiety. The doctors I'd known in my first life were very self-contained and professional people, who dealt with multiple cases of probable death every day of their lives. Most of them did down-low work for the London underworld. It's only when bullets start flying in their general vicinity that they start panicking.

She on the other hand, looked rather edgy.

I found it unnerving.

"Remember not…"

"To interfere with the flow of my chakra," I finished for her, hiding my anxiety behind a grim face and short-tempered attitude. Trying not to think about how the denizens of hell would welcome me back if I died from an incurable disease or genetic disorder, I pushed my chakra into the paper and waited. My stomach bubbled with acid, and my brain began to cloud with fear. My face could have been carved from granite. Slowly, inexorably, like the death toll of a great bronze bell, the darkness spread upwards until yet another pitch black scrap of litmus paper rested at my fingertips.

The good doctor took a deep steadying breath, and let it out slowly through her nose. I, meanwhile, was wondering just what the hell this was supposed to mean. Was I dying? If so, what of? It must have something to do with my chakra, I assumed. Hence the litmus test I'd just undergone. And to boot, if it was bad enough to make a doctor loose her cool in front of a child patient, when by all rights she should be trying her best to remain calm as not to alarm me, then it must be truly horrific. I looked at the doctor and measured her expression, which was now something akin to stony resolve. "I think I had better talk to your parents Reiji-chan."

* * *

**Five minutes later, give or take.**

* * *

"A chakra imbalance?" My father queried softly. Mikazuki placed her hand on his and resolved to look as resolute as possible. I could tell she was worried though.

The doctor nodded. "A chakra imbalance," she confirmed quite succinctly. It didn't sound so bad, I thought cautiously. A…imbalance. It sounded so common, so normal. I wanted to know now why she had looked so damn worried when we got the results of the test.

"A very, very pronounced chakra imbalance to be more specific. I've seen these results in extremely old ninja, and in victims of interrogation, but never in a five year old."

My father blinked, and glanced at me. I was sitting back in the vomit stained seat and glowering very unhappily in his direction. He'd switched seats while I was in the doctor's office. I was thoroughly unamused.

"Perhaps it would help if you explained the particulars of this imbalance," my father suggested, not unkindly. The effect of his reassuring voice was ruined somewhat by the glacial poker face he was wearing. Shinobi, especially highly trained Shinobi have a habit of closing off their outward display of emotion when they feel stressed. At the moment my father's gaze was centred quite firmly upon the doctor's chin, eyes cold and jaw clenched firmly. He tended not to blink when he was in this state, and quite unknown to him, also gave people the overwhelming impression that he was about to lunge for their jugular.

The doctor took it in her stride however. "Certainly. As you are all no doubt aware, all chakra can be divided up at their most basic levels into two types. Yin and Yang. Different levels of these two basic chakra types are combined to create different effects. For example, higher concentrations of Yin are what drives the Nara clan's techniques, and high levels of Yang chakra are used in elemental ninjutsu. Ideally, or perhaps I should say normally, a person is born with equal amounts of both Yin and Yang chakra."

"But Reiji doesn't have equal amounts," Mikazuki surmised quickly.

The doctor nodded, "Yes. This in of itself is not a problem, as all Nara shinobi are born with a higher level of Yin chakra than is the norm, mostly due to their statistically above average intelligence. This is what makes the Nara so suited to using their own unique techniques. And why Shinobi who are not of the Nara find it difficult to copy them."

My father nodded, still unblinking. "I have read something similar. Because of our natural imbalances we developed a way to measure the Yin and Yang content of our chakra system."

The doctor nodded again, this time more vigorously. "Indeed. The early Nara medical-nin were inspired by the chakra sensitive litmus paper used to find a person elemental affinity. The paper was already capable of differentiating between Yin and Yang in order to tell what element a person's chakra was ideally suited to producing. It didn't take them long to create the earlier versions of this," she produced a piece of the grey paper and laid it out on the knee high table in the waiting room.

"You use this in exactly the same manner as you would a piece of chakra sensitive litmus paper, but instead of measuring elemental affinity it measures your affinity to Yin or Yang. When chakra is pushed into it, the colour should change depending upon the levels of Yin and Yang chakra in relation to one another. The default grey is equal levels of Yin and Yang. Darker, and it indicates an affinity towards Yin. Conversely, lighter is Yang."

She reached into her doctor's coat and pulled out the three pitch black pieces of paper that I had used earlier. She set them down gently upon the table, and looked gravely at my parents. "These are the three tests that I had Reiji-chan take."

For a few seconds, no words were spoken. Mikazuki went a bit pale, and my father's face suddenly gave the impression of having just turned to carved granite. Slowly, my father looked back at the doctor, "Maybe we should continue this discussion in your office. Dear," he addressed Mikazuki, "Could you stay with Reiji and keep an eye on him while I speak to the doctor?"

It wasn't really a question. Shikako and the doctor got up and entered the office without another word. I sat there for a second, taking it all in. It didn't sound fatal, and as long as I was alive then I could deal with it. With that one realisation, my nervousness evaporated. I grinned. Then I got up. Mikazuki glanced up at me, clearly stressed by the news. I looked back at her, shrugged, then walked over to dads vacated seat and sat down.

And despite the stress, she found it within herself to smile.

* * *

_Authors Note: Well here we are again. A whole flood of favourites recently, along with some more reviews!_

_Most notably for me, from my good friend RosoMC. I beta his Mass Effect self insert, which I heartily recommend for anyone who likes the franchise. I also realise that this chapter might have been a bit boring for some of you. It was a bit of a slow moving one even when I was writing it. It does establish some important plot points and get some obstacles out of the way. The next chapter I think will be more action packed. But also, I would like to point out that I cannot make Stephen fight much at the moment, mostly because he's just five years old. So this story will be a bit slow at the beginning. I'll try my best to move it along a few years in the next few chapters, and get you all to the interesting stuff. _

_UniCryin: Sorry, I'm going to beat up on Stephen much more than I'm going to beat up on Riley. Can't have my readers thinking that I'm going to give him plot armour for everything. What fun would that be? :-)_

_SamanthaManga: Riley is indeed a fangirl. I wrote her that way, but I wouldn't write her off as a stereotype just yet. There is more to her than is obvious at first glance, and while I did make her very annoying in that chapter she might end up growing on you. Like some kind of fungus. Why does she listen to Kakashi, even though she is in fact older in mind than he is? Well, that too shall be explained in the next chapter. _

_Blackbird0 and DarkDust27: Wait and see. Character development will happen, the Riley you see in her first chapter won't be the Riley that comes out at the end of this story. If she survives that long that is. _

_Cousland and Kurokaneko: That is the main selling point of this fic I feel. You as readers have had a lot of the good guy protagonist. I think it would be interesting in the very least to see how a main character does when he is actually the villain. Or very close to it. I think the only reason there aren't more of them, is that people are afraid of killing off canon characters. Which is a legitimate concern. But I am going to kill some of them off. Maybe even a lot of them. And I hope that even if I kill off one of your favourites, you won't hold it against me. I'll try to make their death as dignified as possible. Or not._


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